Secret Garden
by Eman On1
Summary: Please -Draco-…Lock the door behind you…"
1. Intro i Our Secret

**Disclaimer**: Own none.

**Note**: For this...Nothing yet. Later? Maybe.  
**Rating**: Anything is possible.  
  
  
****

**Secret Garden.........  
.........With purplish Tulips...and  
Creamy eyed Lilies.... And red-berried bushes  
.... Of many a splendor...A secret of...  
Colors, with a shielding of Green...  
.... To the many...For years  
...................Unseen.....................**

..................  
.........................................  
  
_To the students of the castle. The roaming life of its ancient corridors. The mist and haze that settles upon its open doors. The rhythm in which it stands for._

_I give you this._

_My secret garden._

........................................  
  
Sighing, the little red head glanced upwards, away from her yellowed parchment. The ink fading away into its fine threads, gleaming so and so, whenever the wind felt like blowing.

The first of many things that you'll notice, I might guess, are her eyes.

No. Dont roll your own set.

They weren't peculiar by any chance, nor were they gifted by a bizarre color.

No. Not this heroine.

It was the feeling that took you by surprise. The way those eyes felt. So shrewd and sharp, the way they swiveled along the many bushes that veiled her little bench. The way they traced the birds amongst their nests, and the way in which they caught the hidden dance steps of the butterflies near her head. 

They didnt widen, her eyes. Nor did they sharpen.   
  


In a way, they just watched...

And felt. And wrote. What they saw.

  
.........................................  
  
Brushing away at her finished article for the new edition of 'Hogwarts Daily', Hogwart's first newspaper, she laid it next to her on the bench, and proceeded to fold her legs under her.

Closing her eyes, she listened to the sounds. Chirping and wind, and leaves and light.

They mingled well. Ginny soon dozed off.

....

Her eyes cracked open in the very moment of his arrival. 

The leaves were crunched under the solid step of his boots and the sun set, taking away its warmth, that not a second ago was blanketing her face in gold.

Arg.

He was standing, his head angled slightly. The eyes were staring at a point in space, and the mouth slightly apart. 

...

He was known to her, to the whole school. He was Head Boy and the title itself gave him the authority and popularity he holds.   
  
Well, not really. Given the slightly overpowering fact that he's head of the darkest, most notorious House on Hogwarts grounds.

Oh, and add the little fact that he's a Malfoy, too. 

..No matter..

His looks were what fascinated her, though. Not the handsome longish face, nor the tall slender grace in which he held himself.

His look and character as a whole, I mean.

He was fair, yet dark, black in true color.  
  
His hair a startling white, with gray eyes that matched, and pale skin that rivals Snow white's.

Yet he dressed from head to toe in black. The sweater, the pants, the long coat. 

He spoke black. Well, the few syllables he uttered that is.

He was an enigma of sorts. The sort that starts the puzzle, that invites the promise, and breaks away the mystery.

And yet..

..........................................

His eyes were clearing away, even from her safe distance, for he was just behind the bushes that shielded her, she could clearly feel his senses break free.

As expected, his eyes found her faster than the flap of a bird's wing. The stare was somewhat customary.

It was the fact that he was now walking to where she sat, that freaked her heart awake, and sent the panic a frenzy.

You do not want to see a Slytherin walk up to you. The expectation, the nervousness, the, dare I say it, anticipation that courses through and through...

She felt the cold bite, and the clouds form. The sun was setting, and the blue light began to settle and shade away at their features, making him more menacing than before.

He stood a step, and the moment his foot settled, he angled his head a little and, stared.

A move that intimidated. And to Ginny, caused the fine hairs to shield at his left eye.

Stepping up and away from the bench, and turning away from the taller figure, the petite form of our red head gathered her stuff and placed her delicate article neatly inside her leather worn satchel. 

Placing it over her head, so it settles across her chest, she glanced at the Slytherin and stared back.

The rustle of her sudden activity did not interrupt the serenity of twilight. 

It kept going. 

The wind blew away at their clothes and hair, and the leaves brushed against his pants and swirled about her skirt. 

Between them, the blue winged butterflies, kept dancing. 

The only thing between them. 

....

For some things, words are simply not needed. Not because they aren't enough, no, but because they're too much. Too much for something so simple.

Fragile and easy to break.

Their silence, was in fact, if you noticed, a deal.

To never tell the others about this.

To never tell away their secret garden.

.........................................

And so, that was why the first paragraph, (an excerpt from Ginny's article) was delicately burned by her nimble hands. 

She'll keep it a secret. Not for him. And maybe not even for her.

Maybe. For the secret itself.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: 

Kay. Intro chapter. Not sure where it'll lead. Ideas?


	2. Intro ii Has no Sunshine

**.aint no sunshine.**

..........

_It was chaotic, those raging feelings inside. Beats that rivaled the thrumming of the rain with its rhythmic echoes. _

_A thrill. _

_A passion of sorts that overpowers the mind. Clasps the heart and wrings the emotions so they pour out like the flood that appears when the bosom of a flower is too soaked to withstand the weight of the cherished elixir._

_A buzz. _

_A hum, I might add. The humming of rain when it pours- pours- pours. A glacial sheet of shimmering water that penetrates and slices through the now fogged air. _

_ Mist. The murky tendrils that swish about the floor of the garden, that twist and curl around the weeds and flowers, and play about your legs and under your flying skirts._

_Wind. _

_Wind._

_So much wind._

_My hair is pushed about with its long fingers, flying through the air like a dying flag of broken wounds and surrenders. It plays a tune that chants around my ears, the 'whoosh' and 'shhhhhh' that make up its whispers, the playful tug it attains, wrinkling my clothes and blowing it off my collarbones and legs._

_Blue. So much blue. Twilight and the full bright moon. The setting of the dying sun and its embers. Beginnings of blue. _

_Can you feel it?_

_The picture I made of me. A redheaded girl sitting under the shade of an old aged willow, under the rain and along the wind, surrounded with flowers, watching the sun set and the moon and its rays of blue._

_Do you see me?_

_ ........................................_

_………_

Rain. Is there ever a word to describe it. The rhythm, maybe. 

The strum of fingers and the beating of feet. 

The smell. No. 

The scent of bathed leaves and fresh air. The smell of rain. You can never experience it without being actually there. 

The spikes of heaven. Under the rain.

Like our Ginny is.

Hm.

The tree above her bench made a safe shelter against the drops. She used her hand to shield her paper from getting wet. Her ink next to her folded legs, and her bag under the bench.

Her haven. 

The mood was melancholy, like it always is when it rains. Yet, the half smile was playing on her face, and she didnt mind the playful wind, and its fervent caresses.

The strumming continued, and thunder showed. The wind picked up, and the smile was gone. 

Her things were quickly stored away, in her bag. But still, she stayed, her legs now unfolded, her back straight, unmoving from her bench.

Thunder struck again.

Disturbingly, the half smile appeared again.

......

From behind the same bushes that veiled her hideaway, a figure entered.

He stepped and thunder beat again, his figure outlined in silver while the rest was seen as back.

No matter. He was already recognized by Ginny. 

......

He sat beside her, so close. They would have been touching if it weren't for the umbrella that he so keenly placed in the small space between them. 

He had his head turned to the left, away from her.

That hurt. 

No much, but it stung nonetheless. Even though he never spoke to her, never even looked at her before, never really went past the flaming red hair and the Weasley name---

"If you want me to go, say so." She voiced, trying successfully to mask the hurt in her voice.

He didnt spare her a look. 

"Fine." She said calmly. Albeit a little tiredly, but she did mask the anger in her retort. She knew she didnt have to leave, but she wasn't comfortable. With him. 

He made her feel so inferior, so small, so...beneath him.

In the haze of her darkening thoughts, she grabbed her bag, and while striding the small steps away from her bench, she realized something.

Behind her, a small thumping sound began. 

Its chronic beats mortified her.

_Stupid._

With her eyebrows level, and her eyes bleak, she turned her head and stared back at him.

He was twirling the umbrella in his hand, the one that he was not a second ago tapping against the ground. 

His face was still blank, yet Ginny still found the traces of malicious superiority. The control, blank face, yet the mouth was slightly slanted. Slightly, spiteful...

Turning her face away again, facing the showering rain, she sighed and closed her eyes.

A moment later she was back again, sitting next to him. The umbrella tucked safely between them.

_Jerk._

....

The rain, by now was starting to lesson.

Still. She sat. Waiting.

He sat. Not saying a word.

....

She left as soon as it cleared. 

He sat just as before, yet his face was no longer blank, and his eyes were no longer away from her.

........................................................


	3. Scene i Only Numbness

Note: The past two chapters were sort of 'introductory', and I fear some of you who are familiar with the way I write, will roll their eyes at this. Because, you see, most of my stories start out like they have no plot whatsoever, and are filled with setting descriptions and I guess this is where the poetic feeling is inserted, eh? Anyways, the plot, hopefully shows by the third, second chapter, and this where most people get confused. But, with any luck, this wont be the case with this fic. Enjoy. And sorry for the wait. 

**Week ahead.**

**+++**

**_numb._**

_The expectations under the pressure  
Of your predicament   
Brings to life the carvings of steps_

_That numb away the flutter _

_Of senses and the pulse of   
Sanity: _

_The ever lasting clasp  
Of smothering humanity…_

+++

"Weaaaaaaaaasley!"

"_Ginny_, love…"

+++

She was walking silently under the arched hallway, the chandeliers above highlighting the auburn strands on her hair. It was still light outside, the moon not fully seen, and the sky not fully darkened to its usual waves of dark cerulean.

Brushing the loose strands away from her tired face, she tried to focus on her footsteps, tried to concentrate on straitening her lazy slurred footsteps, tried to put a semblance of control on her weary unrelenting footsteps…

+++

"Weasley…?" 

"God, where is she? She was standing right there!"

"Hn…Come on, I think she went that way…"

+++

_Moments just pull you in. _

She was so tired.

_No time for beauty anymore._

Resting her flushed cheek on the paned window, she took joy when it met its coldness. Stinging pins of shuddering iciness, she just had to shut her eyes against the suddenness of it all. 

_I am so tired._

+++

"Damn it!"

"Its all your fault."

"..what?"

"Nevermind. Lets check the library. I'll bet my fortune she's hiding behind one of the those damned bookshelves."

+++

She was bleeding. 

In the middle of the hallway. 

Bleeding. 

And that's when she saw him.

+++

He was walking alone. Not something unusual, since he hated associating with the 'lesser fools' that plagued Hogwarts. And to him, that applied to almost all of the castle's residents. 

Hands in pockets and a bored almost pensive look about his features, he failed to register the lying lump under one of the hallway's many windows. 

When at last he noticed Ginny's slumped form, he did not, however, like any hero, rush to her aid. 

On the contrary. He merely watched.

Angling his head a little, he took in her appearance and stance. From the folded small legs to the hunched back, and the vulnerable arch of her neck, he watched as her head fell repeatedly against the window's paned glasses. 

Her arms wrapped low around her waist.

He did not call out her name. 

No need. 

They were, after all, staring at eachother; both eyes lazily focused on the other. 

+++

Just as he was about to walk away, continue his path and head for the Lake, he heard her slight plea for help before he heard the tell tale sound of her head striking the polished floors of Hogwarts Castle. 

Closing his eyes in exasperation, he pondered the option of leaving her here and calling for Madam Pomfery instead of taking her there himself. 

Looking back haphazardly over his shoulder to check if the injury was serious enough to reconsider his option, he was not surprised to see Ginny Weasley lying helplessly on the ground, but at what her now loosened Hogwarts robes revealed.

A short glimpse of a soaked, blooded white school shirt.

Narrowing his eyes, he flicked his wrist and magicked her form to float mid air and follow him as he turned around to head for the infirmary, resigned. 

Brushing the silver strands form his left eye, he muttered a few well-chosen oaths at the timing of such an incident, and tried to remember a more hidden unknown path that could lead him to the infirmary without nosey little buggers and curious stares and unwanted questions.

+++

"The library is closed?!"

"Obviously, you moron. There's a reason for that sign over there, you know, idiots like you should stop articulating the apparent."

" 'orry, boss."

"Whatever. I wonder, though…"

"What about?"

"Why is it closed…?"

"…Maybe..umm.."

"Yes..?"

"Umm…the fest-"

"Ahh, yes, the festival. How careless of me. Right. Now that you've answered one question productively, can you answer the next: Where the little witch is hiding for example?"

"The garden behind the lake..?"

"No. That's too obvious. She'll know we'll look there for her- no wait; maybe she's counting on it. Maybe she thinks we'll never go there because _it is too obvious_. Clever, I must say. "

"Thank-"

"Whatever, lets go."

+++

The infirmary is closed.

Interesting. 

Turning around to eye the little bundle draped in mid air, he let out a long-winded sigh.

Her eyes were closed now, a shadow of fluttering lashes against her pale skin. 

Turning away from her, he looked on at the now deserted hallway with dispatched interest. He had his hands buried inside his trousers' pockets, and for the second time this evening, he contemplated the idea of just leaving her here and heading for the festival instead.

After all, he was needed there for things more important than _her_.

Ginny was surprised and slightly startled at the bitter sneer that was slowly gracing Malfoy's face. The always impassive face was never marred by such emotion, by any emotion, Ginny corrected herself, and to see his elegant features possessed by a sneer none the less, startled her to thinking that she may as well be the cause of it.

Now barely aware of the hurt that was lashing with tidal waves against her stomach, she raised her head and uttered the last thing she needed and the one thing she knew he'd do for her,

"Just leave me here"

One stare. A distracted even so, with a hint of indifferent curiosity. He had her pinned by his stare, making her go rigid, even as she kept floating through the air because of his spell. 

He did what she least expected him to do. 

Ginny now found herself taken by another emotion, all in a flash of second. He had her intrigued by the way his face washed away from mild curiosity to the attentive smirk and the sardonic lift gracing his right eyebrow. 

He had the aura of one who met caution and thought it wise to hurl it through the air.

Grabbing a pin from his back pocket, Ginny watched as he threw it expertly in the air only to catch it with his other hand, all the while maintaining the same half scorning half grim smile that slanted his mouth just so. 

She wondered briefly, as she watched him insert the pin through the hole next to the door, if he had done this sort of thing before…

And with a soundly – 

_ …Click…_

The closed door of the infirmary was closed no more. 

"Don't stare like that. Your eyes bulge unbecomingly."

+++

He was leaving. 

_And I am still bleeding. _

Hurt and alone.

_And he's still leaving._

+++

"No."

"Don't go."

"Please."

"Afraid of the dark, Weasley?"

"Don't. Don't start with me. Not now. For now, just stay with me, please."

She watched with fuzzy vision as he walked unhurriedly back towards her form, now lying against the stark white sheets of the infirmary bed. Her slurred tongue was too sleek with the words that she just now uttered, even now she lost all remembrance of what passed out of her parched lips. 

But she didn't care. She had him by her side, once more.

"Weasley."

_Hn?_

_" _Do you want to die?"

_…_

"_Do you? _No. Really? Don't you? _Why not_? You're already bleeding. Just a couple of hours more and the sheets under you will be soaked as well, eh? Come on. Nod your head and stop shaking it. Why? Why the tears, love?"

He could be so cruel. 

He was smiling, a severe yet satisfied angle to the mouth. Walking nearer to her closed shut face and the tears jerking her shuddering form; he brushed away the strands of hair near her temple- successfully stopping the incessant weeping of the girl under him. 

"I am going now."

Draco watched as Ginny's shoulders slumped in defeat, her breath escaping her lips in an overpowering surge of loneliness. He watched as she turned her head away towards the fist clenched strongly on her pillow. 

A small hand, yet numbed from the steel like grip…

It roused his curiosity. Was she that alone? Or was it something else?

"Please-_Draco_-…Lock the door behind you…"

Or something else?

+++

Closing the door with a final click and locking it behind as she so strangely requested, Draco pondered over the sanity of the girl he just left behind. 

Ginny Weasely. 

The name, if uttered to him a week ago, would have mattered less to him than the mention of her infamous brothers. 

For that was the extent of what he knew about her. Her family. 

The Weasleys.

But that was before. 

Turning around the corner and facing the Great Castle's Doors, he walked unhurriedly towards it, mindful of the eerie navy shadows that settled over the floors and pooled around its many crevices.

He remembered the first time he saw her. In the garden. Her ebony hair a mess, her quill held between her lips, and her fingers clutching the papers that were dangerously close to being blown away by the winds fervent sighs. 

She was unaware the first time, he was certain. But the second time, he made sure she knew of his presence. He remembered standing there infront of the bench she was sitting on, waiting for her to sense him. And it didn't take long. 

And it didn't take words, he was startled. She understood. Without words.

And that's when a mere name began to take over a face, Draco thought as he opened up one of the doors to face the startling picture near the lake.

Narrowing his eyes against the brilliant set of colors displayed by the fluorescent light bulbs, Draco watched as all of Hogwarts, it seemed, laid against the red-checkered blankets that were set over the lazy green of the Forest. 

They were everywhere, with their smiling faces and the wide set giggles that bubbled over their surface. Some were even playing Frisbee, a muggle sort of game, to pass the time or to amuse their selves; it did not matter to Draco anyway.

Ignoring the strands of hair that were blowing in his eyes, he scrutinized the place for a middle-aged plum lady with a tight bun that went by the name of Pomfery.

There, near the table filled with food and beverages, lay a cluster of Hogwarts Professors, probably standing there to supervise over the students, and in the middle of their group is where his target lay.

Tightening his scarf with a careless flick of the wrist, he walked down the small steps and towards Madam Pomfery with a determined resolute face.

The situation suddenly hit him…

And that is why his walk was not the usual saunter, but a hurried one. A walk that cast him unaware of the greetings and salutations of the Slytherins and other houses cast amid the seas of blankets and food on the ground.

He was suddenly aggravated, curious as to why the Weasley's youngest offspring was plaguing his mind. Why her brown eyes were suddenly etched unto his mind, making his legs walk faster and his mind slow to a screeching halt until only her face he could think about. 

Damn her. _She wasn't bleeding that bad…yet.._

Reaching Madam Pomfery, he let his tongue loose and watched as the old lady's face contorted with horror and guilt.

"My God! Weasely? Where is she?! Yes-Yes"

He watched as she hurried past him, his eyes following her before he found his legs doing the same.

Until, 

"Draco."

Turning around, 

"Snape."

A sudden spark, an explosion illuminated their faces, the fireworks already soaring through the air, leaving a sparkle of color that rivaled the stars in its intensity.

But of course, they never looked up. 

"Be careful."

It was barely heard, through the mutters and startled admiring shouts of all the other students and professors.

+++

He wasn't sure why he was walking back to the infirmary, after all, he called Madam Pomfery and that was, to him, more than was expected.

But, if he searched deep, deep, _deeper_ inside, he would ultimately find that he was, by all means, just:

Curious. 

In Ginny Weasley. 

And if he searched even deeper, he would find the reason behind this sudden curiosity,

Why he hadn't seen her in the garden for the past week, and, obviously, 

Why he found her bleeding in the middle of a deserted hallway.

And why she appeared so afraid…

And as he entered the infirmary, he intended to get the answers to those questions. 

+++

He watched the moon above, and his smirk grew wider. Dropping his gaze, his chin still held high towards the sky, his eyes followed the lazy movement of the students beyond the shrub veiling his figure. 

"Perfect."

"What's perfect, boss? We don't know where Weasley is?!"

"Forget Weasley," He snapped in irritation, "Didn't you just see? Idiot, she's with Malfoy."

"What?!"

The latter, lying on the ground with his arms cushioning his head, jerked upright and goggled in horror at his boss, seemingly unable to articulate the drastic consequences of what he just said.

"Relax, " He purred, amused by the way his friend's eyes bulged from their sockets at the mention of Malfoy, "She wont say a thing. After all, she knows what we'll do if she utters a thing."

"And," He continued," This way, we have Malfoy out of the way, in addition to this," Here he swept a hand towards the unaware students and professors lounging near the lake, "This festival. This distraction. The idiots" He snorted.

"Yes, we have everyone,_ including_ Malfoy, unaware of what will happen in the next- 10 minutes-" He concluded gleefully after checking his watch.

And as the fireworks worked their own magic against the striking inky sky, its vibrant colors of sea green and fiery orange highlighting the faces of those below it, once more, only two didn't look up lost too deep to the throes of insanity and its horrific clutch of maddening laughter.

+++

**Thankful.**

Achylde: Thank you. (It had been raining when I first wrote it, and the rain drops and mist, I guess was what intensified the story. You know, one tends to feel different when it rains, right?) 

lady of scarlet darkness: I've been getting this a lot, and I am wondering, how so? Is it the way it's written, the outline? Because, by God, I don't think it's the contents! (though, I hope this chapter was to your expectation?) 

Zelle: Oh ma God, I am in love with 'Quagmire Interlude'. I don't usually read Humor Fics, in fact I actually despise them, but yours just…I don't know..I am in love…

Nimph: This is for you. Is it still much clearer than OTD? ;)

Anonymous: luv, are you sure? Have you read my favorite list? Please do, because they're_ so_ much better. 

: Surprise twist next chapter :

+++


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